


A Dream in the Dark

by peaches (TheDetective)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Character, Blind Yuuri, Dancer - Yuuri, Getting Together, M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Still a figure skater - Victor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9573038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDetective/pseuds/peaches
Summary: It was supposed to be a surprise for his best friend. It was supposed to be easy, unlike most things in his life. He really should've learned by now.After Katsuki Yuuri, a blind ballet dancer, travels to Russia to surprise his best friend Phichit who is competing in the Grand Prix Final his life takes a turn when he is introduced to Phitchit's arrogant competitor Viktor Nikiforov.





	1. #BestFriendsReunitedinRussia

_“A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.”_

― Jean Genet

“Yuuri!” His friend exclaimed and within seconds he felt her hands graze his shoulders before pulling him in for a tight hug. “I’ve missed you!”

“Me too, Yuuko.” Yuuri replied while they were still cheek-to-cheek. He could feel Yuuko pull back only to hook their arms together. Yuuri took the hint and folded his white cane together, moving it to the hand he was also using to pull his suitcase.

“Yuuri!” Another voice exclaimed, this one deeper but just as familiar. The suitcase was taken from his hand. “Let me take that – you’re our guest!” A heavy hand patted him on the shoulder and Yuuri smiled in his general direction. The gesture had annoyed Yuuri to no end when he was younger. He had always been able to _hear_ Takeshi coming his way but it had taken him years to grow accustomed to his old friend’s brutish way of greeting him.

“Takeshi,” said Yuuri. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has!” Yuuko answered enthusiastically as she began walking forward, guiding Yuuri through the thankfully calm airport. “I’m so glad you decided to come here! Phichit is going to be _thrilled_ when he sees you!”

“Shame you can’t say the same,” Takeshi joked, nudging Yuuri’s shoulder. “Y’know, because you can’t _see_ , haha!”

Yuuri shook his head, stifling his laughter. “Ahhh Takeshi, that was horrible.”

Yuuko rolled her eyes at her husband. “Oh! And you haven’t seen the girls in forever. They’re going to totally flip out!”

Yuuri laughed awkwardly, knowing very well that the girls, while they certainly liked him a lot, were going to be too busy fangirling over the actual figure skaters to pay him much attention. “They are not.”

“Well, they’re going to be happy, anyway.” Yuuko acquiesced. “Like all of us are.”

Yuuri could hear the sound of mechanical doors coming up and soon they were outside in the fresh air, Yuuri could feel the sun hitting his face. “Nice day?” He asked.

“Beautiful,” Takeshi answered.

Yuuko grasped his arm a little tighter and Yuuri could feel her bouncing on her feet with excitement. “Welcome to Russia, Yuuri!”

 

()()()

 

Yuuri wasn’t a big fan of travelling. Especially on his own. Therefore, he had to agree with his sister in saying that him going all the way to Russia by himself was a pretty huge deal. Progress, his therapist had called it. Yuuri himself didn’t know exactly what it was that had urged him to take Yuuko and Takeshi up on their offer to come and support Phichit at the Grand Prix Final. He supposed that part of him felt like he needed to leave Hasetsu for a while. Gain some perspective. He was twenty-three after all and unsure which direction he wanted to take in life. He also got woefully anxious whenever he started thinking about his future and the choices that laid ahead of him. If he was being honest with himself Yuuri might be able to recognize the trip for what it truly was – a distraction. But seeing how thinking about the subject only served to make him even more anxious he avoided thinking about it at all for the most part. There was a reason Yuuri had a therapist, after all.

They had taken a taxi to the hotel. It was the same hotel that Phichit and all the other figure skaters were staying at. Yuuko helped him check-in, having learned a little bit of Russian during her stay, and Takeshi refused to let go of his suitcase until they were in his room. Takeshi left soon after, heading off the relieve their babysitter so that she could have dinner and Yuuko stuck around guiding Yuuri around the room to give him a sense of where everything was.

Yuuko lingered by the door as she was about to leave. “I’ll be back to get you in about thirty minutes, if that’s okay? I figured we’d show up to the dinner a little bit late so that we can really surprise Phichit.”

Yuuri nodded. “Sounds fine.”

“Great!” Yuuko chirped. “See you soon, Yuuri!”

Yuuri heard the door close and then he was alone for the first time since getting off the plane. He turned around where he was standing, bumping his hip hard against the desk he’d promptly forgotten was there. He winced and moved away from in, instead heading in the direction where the bed was. He walked until he could feel the plush mattress beneath his hands and then sat down on it. He leaned back until he was laying down with his only his shins dangling off the side of the bed. He sighed and closed his eyes. He would give himself five minutes of _this_. Wasting time. Before changing clothes and combing his hair.

It used to be a lot worse when he was younger but he was still nervous about things like this – going out to dinner in public, in restaurants he didn’t know and with people he didn’t know. It made his heart stutter and breath catch just thinking about it. He was always scared of somehow making a fool of himself. There were some things that couldn’t be helped, what with him being blind and all. Sometimes he would mess up getting ready only to have someone point it out an hour after he arrived. Sometimes he would accidentally push a bottle or something off the table, causing an awkward moment of someone guiding him away from the shards of glass. And sometimes, the worst of times, he would be dragged into some strange conversations about his blindness and how _hard_ it must be. That hurt him the most because he could almost always feel tears threatening to fall when someone started pitying him. He didn’t need pity. He didn’t want it. It made him feel infantile and more useless than usual.

He was almost certain more than five minutes had passed by the time he got up and made his way to his suitcase. Yuuri changed into a black sweater and black jeans. He wasn’t a big fan of wearing color in general since he didn’t really understand it. He could relate color to _things_ and _words_ but he could never really know for sure what suited him. Black, he was told, was clean and effortless and supposedly it was always a safe bet. Yuuri liked safe bets. Black was also what he wore when he was dancing which was another reason he felt comfortable in the color. He was used to being complimented when dancing. Not by his teacher, Minako, necessarily but by other people. A lot of Yuuri’s life was spent bumping into things, tripping, and knocking things over so dancing was really his only chance to feel graceful.

After he finished combing his hair and was rinsing his mouth out with mouthwash there was a knock on the door. He spat the mouthwash into the sink. “Yuuko?” He called. “Come in!”

“Yuuri!” She yelled. “Are you ready to head out?”

He exited the bathroom and nodded. “Mm.” He shrugged on his jacked and patted his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there. He was reaching for his cane when Yuuko stopped him.

“You don’t have to bring that,” she told him. “Phichit and I will be there all night.” Yuuri hesitated. Yuuko nudged his shoulder playfully. “You’ll just end up carrying it around all night, you know? Phichit won’t let you out of his sight, I’m sure.”

Yuuri laughed at that because it rang true. “Fine, let’s go.”

Yuuko suddenly squealed excitedly, startling him. “Phichit is going to freak!”

 

()()()

 

Yuuri’s hands felt clammy when they entered the restaurant. The sound level was pretty loud and the smells where overwhelming. He gripped Yuuko’s arm a little tighter.

“There they are!” Yuuko exclaimed, waving her free hand at the group. She walked over to table, Yuuri beside her. He could hear Phichit’s light laugh and Takeshi’s booming one nearby. Other voices mingled in with their laughter letting Yuuri know that they indeed would not be eating alone.

Suddenly, Yuuri heard a gasp. “Yuuri!” Phichit yelled.

Yuuri heard someone utter a low “huh?” somewhere but he forgot all about it when Yuuko released him so that he could be embraced by his best friend. Phichit pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. “I can’t believe you’re here! This is the best surprise ever!”

“I’ve missed you,” Yuuri murmured.

“Ahhh I’ve missed you too, my friend!” Phichit let go of him, steering him so that he was presumably looking at the others sitting at their table. “Everyone! This is my bestest friend in all of the world the _amazing_ Katsuki Yuuri!”

Phichit promptly introduced him to his other friends and colleagues – the skaters Guang Hong Ji and Seung-Gil Lee and his coach Celestino. It struck Yuuri that he’d met Phichit’s coach before but the meeting must have been very brief and uninteresting since Yuuri had almost forgotten about it.

Dinner was nice, Yuuri had to admit. He sat between Phichit and Yuuko, which helped. The food was different but nice. Yuuri had never had it before and the names of the dishes meant nothing to him but Phichit was enthusiastic in his quest to teach Yuuri about Russian cuisine. Yuuri found Guang Hong to be a kind spirit, much like Phichit, and although Seung-Gil was rather quiet he was also very funny in a dead-pan sort of way. No one seemed to care that Yuuri was blind, at all, no one brought it up or asked about it which was refreshing. Yuuri found himself growing fond of these strangers.

Hours later they had finished their feast (including desert) and where about to head back to the hotel when someone joined them. Yuuri gathered, from the way everyone grew quiet, that this was someone they knew. And not someone they liked.

“Well, well,” a cocky voice huffed. “If it isn’t the Asian-gang… and Celestino, of course. You know, the way you guys exclude the rest of us one might start to suspect you’re actually racist.”

Yuuri frowned. He himself had never really understood racism, how could he? But he was certain Phichit wasn’t racist. “JJ. The reason no one invites you along is because you’re the worst,” Seung-Gil said, matter-of-factly.

 _JJ…_ Yuuri thought to himself. _Who? Oh. Jean-Jacques Leroy. Phichit’s mentioned him, I think. His catch-phrase is completely ridiculous._

“You’re all just jealous of my – _JJ style!_ ” The man yelled. Yuuri felt himself cringe. “Anyway, you won’t be calling me the worst after I win gold in a couple of days.”

It was becoming increasingly obvious with each word the man spoke that Yuuri would not like him. When yet another voice joined them Yuuri felt about ready to leave the restaurant and never come back.

“My God, JJ,” the new voice spoke smoothly. “Your arrogance is as astounding as it is unwarranted.”

“Viktor.” JJ ground out, obviously irritated by the new man’s presence. “I didn’t notice you were here.”

Yuuri heard Phichit giggle beside him and couldn’t help but smile himself – he figured that anyone who could knock JJ down a peg or two was all right in his book.

“Hm. Anyway, I wouldn’t go boasting about winning gold so soon. It’s only going to make it more embarrassing when I take home the medal. Like I always do.”

Yuuri’s smile fell off his face. Was this how these skaters spoke about winning? Phichit never did and he was quite certain Guang Hong and Seung-Gil wouldn’t either. Perhaps it was Yuuri’s own insecurities that made him weary of arrogant individuals but it really irritated him when people thought themselves to be better or more deserving than others. He thought about Phichit, who was kind and quick to laugh and how he deserved better. He earned his place in the final just like they did.

JJ was grumbling his response when Viktor decided to speak over him. “Phichit! Good to see you. All of you! I think I recognize all but _one_ – who might you be?” Yuuri could sense that Victor was looking at him.

“I-”

“This is Yuuri!” Phichit interrupted. “He’s my friend from Japan! We met while I was training there – been best friends ever since, right Yuuri?” Yuuri nodded his head in agreement.

“How interesting…” Viktor seemed to trail off, focused all of a sudden. “Are you blind?” Viktor asked, sounding intrigued. Then, seemingly answering his own question he continued. “That’s a shame. You’ll never get to watch me perform.”

Yuuko gasped beside him, taken aback by the comment just like Yuuri.

Yuuri felt lost for words. Viktor spoke so casually. As if his words weren’t absolutely insane. Yuuri felt his face flush with anger, he turned to Phichit and asked if he felt ready to head back to the hotel.

“Of course, Yuuri!” Phichit replied. “Are you going back too, Viktor?”

Yuuri cringed mentally, praying that Viktor would say no.

“Soon,” Viktor informed them in the same soft, causal but cocksure tone he seemed to own. “I just have to wait for my fellow countrymen. You go on.”

Yuuri got up along with the rest of his company, Phichit immediately grabbing onto his elbow. “Goodbye, Viktor! JJ!”

On their way back, Phichit and Yuuri walked ahead of the group. Phichit was telling him all about how amazing everything had been and things they had to do before Yuuri went back home. Later, when Yuuri was lying in bed, he scoffed to himself as he remembered the words of JJ and Viktor from earlier in the night. Sure, Phichit hadn’t seemed to mind them, but Yuuri was practically seething. He fell asleep wishing that he’d never have to speak to either of them again. Too bad dreams don’t actually come true.

**From Phichit’s Twitter:**

(Selfie of Phichit and Yuuri – Yuuri is looking at someone off-camera and Phichit is grinning at the camera, his arm thrown over Yuuri’s shoulders.)

#WhenYourBestFriendSurprisesYouInRussia #Blessed #ShipItWithPhichit #BestFriendsReunitedinRussia


	2. #AMAZING #INSPIRED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hearing a beautiful piece of music at the rink, inspiration strikes Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback and kudos <3

 

_“If music be the food of love, play on."_

― William Shakespeare

 

So here’s the thing about being Katsuki Yuuri’s best friend – it can be a lot of work. Luckily, Phichit is always up for a challenge. If Yuuri is having an off day he will gladly bring him coffee to cheer him up, he will lend Yuuri a hand to guide him through rooms with a lot of pointed edges and he will try his best make sure that his anxious friend is comfortable. Despite all the lovely things Phichit tries to do for his friend (and the many he succeeds in doing) Phichit also suffers from an acute case of “easily distractedness” (a very real and frustrating illness according to Phichit’s mother) which leads to him missing a lot of hints thrown his way.

Earlier this morning, for example, Yuuri really wanted to have a quiet day with the triplets. He wanted to remove himself from the craziness the skating world seemed to contain and ground himself in something more genuine. He also couldn’t tell his best friend “no” when Phichit asked him, very excitedly, to join him at the rink for practice. A friend who does not suffer from “easily distractedness” would have been able to tell that Yuuri was less than enthusiastic about the plan but instead Phichit noticed a painting of cats in a basket on the hotel wall and took a picture of it to send to Yuri Plisetsky. The thing about being Phichit Chulanont’s best friend is also that it can be a lot of work. A lot of work, to be honest, is something that _most_ friendships entail.

And thus, Yuuri found himself miserable in a cold skating rink while Phichit was tying his skates, clueless.  Yuuko was with them, telling them a funny story about the triplets misbehaving. “We’re going to have to put some sort of time lock on their computers. They were up all night arguing with internet trolls about who’s going to take gold at the Final. They’re obsessed.”

“Who are they betting on?” Yuuri asked.

“Viktor,” Phichit and Yuuko informed him in unison.

Yuuri frowned. “Really?”

Phichit patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’m not upset, Yuuri. Almost everyone has Viktor slated to win – it’s statistically sound. Of course, that’s only going to make it so much more satisfying when I take home the medal.”

“You mean when _I_ take home the medal.” A voice uttered near them.

Yuuri sighed. _Did this happen every time? Are figure skaters magic somehow? Someone says they’re going to win and they just pop up like arrogant genies._

Phichit laughed, friendly to a fault as always. “Finally, the two Yuri’s in my life have met. Yuuri, this is Yuri a Russian skater, and Yuri, this is Yuuri my best friend and very talented dancer from Japan.”

“His name is Yuri?” The other, angrier Yuri spat. Yuuri felt fists grasp the collar of his jacket and he was violently tugged forward. “Change it!”

“Uh-h no?” Yuuri squeaked, pushing at the other Yuri’s hands.

“Yuri!” Yuuko commanded. “Let him go! Don’t be an idiot.”

“He’s the idiot,” Yuri corrected but he released Yuuri nonetheless. And then he added, to Yuuri, as an afterthought, “Idiot.”

“Don’t mind him,” Yuuko told Yuuri, straightening his collar in a motherly fashion. “He’s a kitten once you get to know him.”

“Am not!” The boy retorted.

“Yuri is one of the finalists this year,” Yuuko explained. “He’s very young and very talented. We’re all very proud.”

This set Yuri off again. “Well you can stick you pride where the-”

Suddenly music started playing – blasting through the speakers – a sharp and strong note rang out, filling the rink, and drowning out all other sound. Yuri plopped down on the bench next to Yuuri, still ranting, but Yuuri barely noticed him, busy being entranced by the beautiful music. It drew him into a different dimension. A heightened one. The music was dramatic and forceful with a softness… a gentleness hidden beneath the grandeur and pomp. It was a symphony, a poem, a confession all rolled into one track. Finally, after a perfect eternity, the music ended. Yuuri was pulled from his reverie by the scattered sound of applause.

“He totally almost botched that quadruple flip,” Yuri muttered. “That was half-assed, old man!” He then yelled at whoever it was that had been skating.

Yuuri turned to Phichit and Yuuko. “I want that track.”

“What?” Phichit asked. “Why?”

“I _need_ that track,” Yuuri pressed.

Yuuko laughed. “And I can get it for you.”

“You think it’s good, right?” Yuri sneered. “Wait till you hear mine.” Yuuri could basically _feel_ him preen. “Then you’ll want _my_ track. I’ll even let you use it, if you want. I’m generous that way.”

“You’re just jealous, kitten,” Yuuko laughed. “I’ll go get a copy of the song for you, Yuuri.”

“Thank you,” said Yuuri. He heard Yuuko walk away. Yuuri turned to Phichit. “I know you wanted me to stay for your practice but-”

“Inspiration struck?” Phichit guessed, chuckling. “I get it, Yuuri. The look on your face… I get it.”

Yuuri smiled. “You’re a good friend, Phichit.”

“The best,” Phichit corrected.

“Is there a studio around here, by the way?” Yuuri asked. Phichit shifted beside him and suddenly there was one of those moments where Yuuri wished for sight. He could sense that Phichit and Yuri were having some sort of silent conversation. He could feel both of them gesticulate. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“Yuri Plisetsky will take you to his studio, he’s going there now anyway.” Phichit informed him. On Yuuri’s other side Yuri groaned dramatically.

“Eh-h,” Yuuri stammered. “I really don’t want to be a bother.” _Or be alone with this kind of scary kid._ “I can find some other place.”

“Whatever.” Yuri said, getting on his feet. He walked a couple of steps then turned around. “Well come on! I’m not waiting around for you, idiot!”

Yuuri hesitated.

“Here’s a CD with the track, Yuuri.” Yuuko said, returning from wherever she had gone. She placed the case in Yuuri’s hands and patted him on the shoulder. “And you should go with, Yuri. Promise you won’t regret it. He has an awesome teacher. I'll come by in a couple of hours and pick you up for lunch, okay?”

“Hurry up!” Yuri shouted impatiently. Yuuri scrambled to his feet and moved to extend his cane when a thin hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him forward. “I’m already late, idiot! I’ll guide you!”

Yuuri stumbled but let himself be led out of the rink by the forceful young man who shared his name.

 

()()()

 

Viktor watched with sharp eyes as his angry (sort of) friend and (sort of) rival tugged a frazzled looking blind boy out of the cold building. He shook his head and grinned to himself, languidly skating, and he wondered, briefly, if the new Yuuri would survive the wrath of the old one.

 

()()()

 

“This is Lilia Baranovskaya's studio?” Yuuri asked, shocked. “She’s your teacher?”

Yuri sighed and basically dragged the stunned Yuuri inside. “Yes. And she loathes tardiness so I’m fucked. Thank _you_ very much.” At this point they were basically jogging down the corridor.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into that pole.” Yuuri apologized. “Anyway, that’s amazing. She’s a legend and I-”

They stopped and Yuuri slammed into the younger boy’s shoulder, thrusting them both forward into a stumble much too graceless to take place in a ballet studio. “Oh shit,” Yuri breathed to himself.

“You’re late.” A woman said, sharply. Snapping Yuuri back into correct posture.

“I apologize,” Yuri said, in what can only be described as an earnest tone, surprising Yuuri. “I was delayed by this _stranger_.”

“Go,” the woman commanded. “Prepare yourself, Yuri Plisetsky, and I will join you in a moment.”

Yuuri released the young Russian who sped off instantly.

After a beat Yuuri bent forward into a deep bow. “Lilia Baranovskaya, it is an honor to make your acquaintance. I am humbled to be in your presence.”

“Rise,” she said and he did. “You came to dance?” 

Yuuri swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

“From the look of you I can tell you have promise... I have a free room you can use.”

“Thank you.” His voice was trembling, not unlike the rest of him. She was a big deal. 

“It’s no problem.” With a small gust of wind from a sharp turn she started walking. “Follow me.”

Yuuri fumbled to get the cane out of his pocket and unfold it, meanwhile Lilia kept walking not slowing down for even a second. Yuuri kept a quick pace in order to catch up. They appeared to be walking down a corridor, slim, straightforward. They turned right once before Lilia halted and opened a door, she held it open for Yuuri and he stepped inside.

“The room has bars on the wall straight ahead. It stretches twenty meters in total to your side and fifteen meters ahead of you.” She informed him. “Do you have music that you would like me to assist you with?”

“Yes,” Yuuri handed her the CD.

She walked across the room, the click of her heels bouncing off the walls in an all too familiar way. Yuuri followed her, stopping beside her. “Can I take your hand?” Yuuri nodded and extended it to her. She placed it on the CD-player which was mounted in the wall. “This is the play and pause button. Volume control is over here.” She let go. “You can figure it out from here, yes?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yes.”

“Very well,” said Lilia Baranovskaya, the legend, before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Yuuri let out a deep breath. This was amazing. He was going to dance in Lilia Baranovskaya’s studio. Minako would never believe him. He then walked around the room, getting a sense of where the walls were and making sure there indeed were no obstructions that would get in his way. When he was satisfied, he removed his jacket and sweater, dressing down to his t-shirt and track pants. He left behind his stick. He didn’t need it anymore. Then he pressed play, the music began and suddenly he was transported, once again, to another dimension.

It was inexplicable the way he seemed to know the exact way to move to the music. That’s not to say his performance was perfect. He didn’t land all of the precise technical moves but that didn’t matter. He could perfect it later on. What mattered was the _feeling_ in the song and translating that into dance, into art. Working together in symphony, feeding off the energy supplied by the music and using it to create something even more special. There was pride and arrogance in the song that Yuuri matched with bold moves and hard jumps. But the vulnerability… that was harder to find. It was something that felt almost too close to home for him. It took him several tries, an endless supply of different combinations, to finally find something that felt right. For the first time in a long time he was dancing without a plan. He was dancing just to dance and it felt liberating, like taking a breath after holding it a long time. After his final run-through, he stood, breathing heavily, his arms crossed high, in line with his shoulders, feeling freer than he had in a long time.

He was pulled from his deep thoughts by the sound of loud squealing. “Yuuri!” A bunch of female voices chimed.

“Yuuko?” He asked, startled. He hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought the girls with me.”

“Yuuri!” Suddenly three small bodies tackled him.

“You were amazing!” One of them said.

“That was Viktor’s track.” Another one said.

“How did you know-” The third one began but was cut off by their mother.

“Girls!” She commanded. “Give Yuuri some room, let him get his things and then we can go out for lunch. If you’re ready, Yuuri?”

“Yeah,” he said, moving to put on his sweater. “Is it lunchtime already?”

“Mm… you’ve been here for hours.”

That gave him pause. “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

Yuuko just laughed, a tint of nostalgia and fondness coloring it. “Of course you didn’t.”

After a moment, they left the studio, Yuuko holding onto Yuuri’s elbow and telling him about Phichit’s practice. On his other side the girls were giggling excitedly about something in hushed tones. At the time, Yuuri didn’t give it a second thought. Something he would later come to regret.

 

()()()

 

It was late evening by the time Viktor returned to the apartment he was staying at. It was technically his but he rarely used it so it wasn’t exactly home. Not that his apartment in Saint Petersburg was much of a home either but at least it had Makkachin. He missed his dog more than anything. More than his amazing shower and comfortable couch. There was nothing like coming home to someone excited to see you, someone who missed you. Here, he was faced with a dark, cold, and impersonal apartment with only himself for company. So he sat down on the uncomfortable couch his decorator had picked out and opened his social media – an effort to escape his own thoughts and isolation.

He smiled to himself as he noticed even more fans on his Twitter than usual. A lot of them seemed to be linking to the same video. He clicked one of the links and opened the video on YouTube. What he saw there blew him away. It was the blind boy – Yuuri – and he was dancing to Viktor’s song. The song for his Short Program. Viktor brought the screen closer to his face, eyes fixated on the man. It was beautiful. He had never seen someone move so passionately, with such freedom and confidence before - Yuuri truly became one with the music. The man seemed to transform when he danced because this simply was not the stumbling, quiet boy he had met the previous night. And yet, obviously, it was. He was both intrigued and impressed. He simply had to talk to Yuuri again. Some of the moves he made were nearly identical to the ones in Viktor’s own routine. Who had taught him? Who was this enigma?

Viktor’s fingers moved swiftly across the screen of his smartphone as he formed a response to the video. A small smile graced his lips. For once, he was excited for tomorrow to come.

 

()()()

 

Yuuko was walking Yuuri back to his hotel room after dinner with the kids and Phichit when her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket and stopped abruptly when she read her notification. “Oh Yuuri,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh?” He asked, oblivious to the distress on his friend's face. 

Yuuko cursed herself for a moment. She really should’ve known better than to let the triplets record him. “The triplets,” she began to tell him. 

“Are they okay?” He asked, concerned. 

She sighed. “They’re fine. They’re _terrible_. But fine.” She said her next words with trepidation. “You see… they sort of filmed you dancing earlier.”

“What?” His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.

Her heart hurt. She knew how private he was. How hard it was for him to open up. “We were watching you from the window in the corridor, Loop took up her phone and... they posted it online and apparently it got the attention of Viktor. The skater from the other night, remember?”

“I do,” he replied, dumbly. “He was an ass.”

“Well,” she said, “That ass was very impressed by your dancing. He retweeted the video the girls posted. It’s been viewed over 50,000 times.”

Yuuri stared ahead. Seemingly too shocked by this information to move.

“Oh Yuuri! I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed. 

He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

She flinched. “There’s more… he wants to speak with you again and… heh… ‘teach you some moves’… Yuuri? Are you okay?” She reached out to touch her stunned friend.

Yuuri just kept staring straight ahead, thinking to himself _dear god what have I gotten myself into now?_ After a full minute he finally seemed to return to reality. He sighed. "Take me to my room, Yuuko. I just want to sleep."

Yuuko smiled sadly at her friend and pulled him in for a tight hug. "I'm sorry. I'll tell them to take it down."

"It's fine," he told her, giving her a squeeze.

But it wasn't fine. He slept anxiously that night, dreading the next day. 

 

**From Viktor’s Twitter:**

Yuuri is a true inspiration! I can’t wait to speak to him again and maybe teach him some moves ;) #AMAZING #INSPIRED

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter has some errors. I've gone back and corrected some of them but I still probably missed something. 
> 
> Anyway, I look forward to writing more soon!
> 
> Edit: Sorry I haven't published another chapter yet. I've been busy trying to survive the terrible flu life decided to throw at me. Next week, promise.


	3. #Awkward #JuiceSpill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After engaging in what some people (Yuri) call stalking, Viktor invites himself to lunch with Phichit and Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never actually meant for Viktor’s tweet to sound threatening. I guess it’s up to interpretation. Just so we’re on the same page going into this chapter!
> 
> Also, this chapter is sort of broken up (if that makes sense). The story is still sort of in the middle of things and I'm trying to fit everything together while progressing the story. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

 

 _"_ _My ultimate search has been for a muse."_

― Dominic Monaghan

 

_“People always clap for the wrong things. If I were a piano player, I'd play it in the goddam closet.”_

― J.D. Salinger _, The Catcher in The Rye_

 

 

“I need to talk to him.” Viktor whined, pouting petulantly because he was an overgrown man-child. Tomorrow had arrived and his excitement had been completely eradicated over the course of the morning. He gripped the younger Russians jacket and shook him. “Why won’t Phichit let me talk to him?”

The pair were at the rink, as was commonplace this time of day, and Viktor was being, well, “annoying” seems too kind of a word for someone his age yet nonetheless it applied.

“Get off me, old man!” Yuri complained, pushing the nauseatingly sullen Viktor off him. “He doesn’t want to talk to you because you’re the worst!”

Viktor stuck out his tongue.

“You are an insolent child!” Yuri shouted.

Viktor let out a loud laugh. “At least I can legally drink.”

“This is Russia. I’ve had alcohol since I was a child!” Yuri retorted (childishly).

“Sure, you have.” Viktor said, patronizingly. “And, by the way, you’re _still_ a child.”

Before Yuri had a chance to throw back an angry response the older man had swiftly made his way back onto the ice and was languidly skating away from him. Yuri grinned to himself. Viktor really was an idiot sometimes. “Anything to get him to stop whining about that pig,” Yuri murmured to himself.

“Do you think I could find his phone number online?” Viktor yelled across the ice.

Yuri groaned. So much for his small victory. This was going to be a long morning.

 

()()()

 

 _“Yuuri! I can’t believe I had to find out about this online! You should have called me_ _– this has been really embarrassing for me!_ ” Minako was currently scolding Yuuri via telephone from all the way across the world (and this was in no way surprising to him).

“I only found out about it last night,” Yuuri complained. “And it’s really embarrassing for me, too, so you can stop ending every sentence with an exclamation point.”

Minako sighed. _“Oh, Yuuri.”_

Yuuri withheld his own sigh. He hated it when she spoke in this tone of voice – soft and kind, motherly. It was unlike her.

_“I’m so fucking proud of you.”_

His heart seemed to clench at her words, leaving him speechless.

 _“You were amazing, I have to agree with Nikiforov on that point.”_ Minako told him.

At the mention of Viktor, Yuuri rolled his eyes. “This is all his fault.”

Minako chuckled. _“I think the triplets are responsible for this, no?”_

“They’re too young to be blamed for this. Besides, if he hadn’t shared it none of this would be happening. Phichit told me it’s still blowing up. I’ve told him to stop giving me updates. And to not give Viktor my contact information.”

 _“This is a good thing, Yuuri.”_ Minako assured him. _“I’ve already gotten a call from a studio in Tokyo interested in you. I want you to be open to this leading somewhere good, okay? For once in your life, don’t expect the worst.”_

Yuuri didn’t respond, instead fiddling with the string of his hoodie, taking in her words.

 _“Not that it was perfect,”_ Minako told him in a sterner tone. A more familiar one. He had been hearing it since the first day he set foot in her studio. He had a feeling that the change in her manner was more for _his_ benefit than her own. A testament to her kindness. _“When you come back we’re going to train until it’s fucking flawless. You’re good, Yuuri, but I taught you to be great.”_

Yuuri sighed but nodded. “Yes.”

 _“Good,”_ she said. _“Anyway, I have to hang up now. This is costing me a goddamn fortune.”_

“Goodbye, teacher.”

_“See you soon!”_

Then she was gone and he was alone in the dark again.

 

()()()

 

“I can’t believe I’m here with you.” Yuri muttered.

He was currently sitting next to a scheming Viktor in the lobby of the hotel most of the figure skaters were staying at. The foyer was quite lovely – large and quite grandiose in its design. Very Russian.

“What else would you be doing?” Viktor asked. “You have no life outside of skating.”

Yuri hit Viktor over the head with a magazine about cats he’d grabbed off the side table. “You are in no position to be schooling me about having a life. We’ve been sitting here for over an hour.”

Viktor glanced at the clock. “Barely.”

“This is stalking,” said Yuri. “I hope you know that. In fact, I hope you go to prison.”

Viktor smiled at him. “But then you would have no friends.”

“I have friends!”

“Then why are you here?” Viktor teased.

Yuri stood up, throwing the magazine to the side. “I hate you, old man!”

That’s when Viktor spotted _him_ and the rest of the world seemed to go out of focus. He pushed a red-faced Yuri to the side in order to follow the man with his eyes. “He’s here! Yuuri’s here!” He stage-whispered. “How do I look?” He asked, anxiously touching his hair.

Yuri ran a hand over his face. “You’re the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

Viktor laughed sheepishly. “Hahah, right. He probably wouldn’t care how I look.”

The other Yuuri was walking toward the exit with the Thai skater, Phichit. “Are you just going to sit here like an asshole or are you going to talk to him?” Yuri asked. Then adding. “Not that I care.”

“Right!” Viktor quickly got on his feet and made his way over to Phichit and Yuuri with long strides. “Phichit!” He called after them. “Yuuri!”

Yuri sighed and sat back down again, picking up the cat magazine. He really _didn’t_ have anything better to do.

 

()()()

 

“Dear god,” Yuuri sighed. “Why is he here?”

“No idea,” Phichit whispered. “But he’s definitely coming over here.”

“I gathered as much.”

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you!” Viktor exclaimed, his voice coming closer. “I was just here on… _errands_ … when I saw you – imagine my surprise!”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been responding very much online,” said Phichit. “I’ve been very busy with… uhh… training.”

Yuuri wanted to sink into the ground. These two might be the worst liars on the planet if they were unable to fool a blind person. “Well, I’m sorry, but we’re actually just leaving.” Yuuri tried to excuse them.

“Oh! Where are you going?” Viktor asked enthusiastically.

“Lunch,” Phichit supplied.

 _Oh no_ , Yuuri thought. _No. No. No. N-_

“No way! I was just heading out to lunch myself. Would you mind keeping me company?”

Phichit hesitated. Yuuri squeezed his arm tightly. _No. No. No._

“It’s just that,” Viktor sighed in a very melodramatic way, “I have no one else to eat with and… I could really use some company… But if you’re busy I completely understand…”

Yuuri swore he could physically _feel_ Phichit give in. “Of course, you can come! The more the merrier, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri muttered.

 

Viktor had been _pleasant_ , Yuuri decided. _Surprisingly_ pleasant.

They were sitting at a nice deli a couple of blocks away from the hotel. They had a window table and the sun felt nice on Yuuri’s face. He was sitting closest to the window, next to Phichit, and Viktor was across from them.

“I’m sorry that I shared the video,” Viktor said to Yuuri. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes I forget myself.”

Yuuri hesitated, caught between somewhere between petty disdain and reluctant empathy. “It’s okay.” He finally decided. “Will you just promise not to post anything about me in the future?”

Viktor made a choked sound, startled. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Yuuri asked, frowning. “It’s not exactly asking much, is it?” He directed the question at Phichit.

“Because!” Viktor nearly shouted. “You’re my muse!”

Yuuri swallowed tightly. “I’m your what?”

“My muse! When I watched you… Yuuri…” Viktor cleared his throat after a significant pause. Yuuri stared at him, open-mouthed. Viktor continued. “I mean, you’re very talented, I would know, I’m very talented, too, and you dance with such _feeling_. It made me want to be better – it was _inspiring_. Therefore, you are my muse.”

“Eh-h-hm…” Yuuri stuttered. “I-I can’t be your m-muse.”

Phichit chuckled next to him.

Yuuri elbowed him. “This isn’t funny.”

“Ow!” Phichit complained.

“You should be flattered, Yuuri.” Viktor told him. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s kind of _crazy_ ,” Yuuri insisted. “I don’t even know you. You _definitely_ don’t know me.”

Viktor clapped his hands together, startling Yuuri. “Great point! We should spend more time together! I was actually hoping I could watch you dance again sometime, maybe-”

Yuuri interrupted him by suddenly rising to his feet, his thighs slamming into the table, making a glass topple over, spilling juice in Viktor’s lap. Yuuri squeezed past Phichit who stared at his friend in confusion. Without another word, Yuuri folded out his cane and made his way out of the restaurant and out onto the streets. He didn’t waste any time standing around, instead he immediately began walking. He wasn’t sure if it in was the right direction to take him to the hotel or if he was headed entirely the wrong way. He didn’t care. He just had to get out of there.

Knowing that the world had seen him dance was a lot to handle. Knowing that he was the muse to a famous figure skater was un-fucking-thinkable and something he simply did not know how to process.

He had been ready to put the dumb video behind him.

He knew that Minako was excited. He knew that Phichit didn’t understand why he was so upset. He knew that most people would jump at the chance he’d been given… but it wasn’t what he wanted. He never _asked_ for this. And it wasn’t going away quickly enough. There were about a hundred texts on his phone from old friends, and family he hadn’t spoken to in years – all congratulating him and asking him if he had any shows coming up.

It was _too much._

There was only one person who seemed to understand him. 

Yuuri pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the one person he knew would listen.

 

Yuuko found him about ten minutes after their call ended. She led him to a nearby park bench and they sat down.

“It’s not really a big deal,” Yuuri began. “I know that. Videos like this… they go viral and then they disappear. This interest in me, it’ll pass. I know. But it hasn’t passed yet, obviously, and I’m not used to attention. Usually when people notice me all they see is that I’m…”

“Blind,” Yuuko supplied, softly.

Yuuri nodded sharply, his hand tightening around the handle of his cane. “Dance has always been a chance for me to prove that I’m _more_ than just my disability but that’s never been the reason I do it. I dance because it makes me feel _free_.” Yuuko placed her hand over his, supporting him. “Viktor said I was his muse, which is completely insane. I’m not the type of person that’s someone’s muse. I’m a mess! I don’t even know if I want to keep dancing professionally. I’m barely dancing professionally as it is, you know? I don’t really have a lot of shows, I mostly just work at the studio… and all this attention… it’s really messing with my head.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Yuuko. You know it’s hard enough for me to make decisions when it’s just you, Minako and my family watching. I don’t need the world judging me.”

Yuuko pulled him in for a hug and he leaned his head against her shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Yuuri. I never knew you were thinking about quitting.”

“Yeah… it’s been really hard. Minako doesn't even know.”

“Well, you can always talk to me. Anytime. Know that.”

“Thank you.”

 

()()()

 

Viktor had been sitting in the hallway (in borrowed pants) outside Yuuri’s hotel room for well over an hour by the time Yuuri arrived. His hair was ruffled, his cheeks were red and he was beautiful. It was simply a fact. 

“I don’t know what I keep doing wrong,” Viktor said, thus alerting Yuuri to his presence.

Yuuri stopped walking, looking in Viktor's direction.

Viktor continued. “But it must be something because people usually don’t run away from me. In fact, people usually run _towards_ me but I feel like I’m getting off-topic here…”

“You should get _off_ my floor,” Yuuri told him.

“I will,” Viktor promised, standing up. “But first, can you just tell me why we can’t get to know each other better? What have you got to lose? I really think we could make something special together.”

“At the end of the day,” said Yuuri, “You and I are too different. I just don’t see us being friendly.”

Viktor stared at the other man in confusion. Yuuri only heard the silence. The nothing. The non-auditory version of “I agree with you” or at the very least “I can’t argue with you”. Yuuri started to move toward his door again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Viktor called after him.

“It means we’re different people. I don’t see us getting along very well.” Yuuri said. He touched the metal plate with braille numbers on it next to his hotel door, then he pressed his keycard against the lock and opened the door. “I can’t be your muse.”

“That’s not true!”

“Goodbye, Viktor.” Yuuri walked in and closed the door behind him.

Viktor stared at the closed door for about a minute too long before leaving. He wanted to stay. Bang on the door until the other man would talk to him, explain himself. He would do anything for, not even a second chance, but for just _a_ chance. Just one.

He wasn’t used to feeling like this. He wasn’t used to chasing after people’s affection and attention. Sure, he preened when he received it. He enjoyed it. But he had enough of it. He didn’t need it from Katsuki Yuuri. A nobody.

Yet he did.

Why?

He was still trying to figure that out.

All he knew was that Yuuri was an enigma. And that he seemed to hate him.

Lovely.

Viktor sighed, his head hanging low as he stepped into the elevator. As the elevator went down, so did his spirit. Seeing Yuuri dance had been a breath of fresh air in his life. A much needed one. He would hate it if this was how it ended – before it even got a chance to really begin.

 

 

**From Phichit's Twitter:**

That awkward moment when you have to help a gold medalist clean juice off his pants. #Awkward #JuiceSpill

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it! Finally, another chapter!
> 
> Again, thank you for the kudos and comments they make me very happy and give me motivation to keep this ship moving! If you catch any errors, let me know and I'll fix them. I no proofread very good sometimes. Also, English isn't my first language and although I'm pretty amazing at it I'm bound to mess up now and again. 
> 
> Another chapter will be published next week! (Spoiler alert: it's going to include the Free Program! Get hyped!)
> 
> Edit: Hi, it's me, the young woman who can't seem to keep a deadline. I promise it'll be up by the end of Wednesday, at least. An excuse, I know, but my dog is sick so I've been a busy nurse the past week. I could rush something out tonight but it wouldn't feel right and it probably wouldn't read right. Hopefully the next chapter will be worth the wait (and I think it will be)!


	4. #SuckItOldMan #WhatANight #GrandPrixGrandMe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling a little guilty following Viktor's "loss", Yuuri makes his way to Viktor's apartment where they share a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! Barely, but I made it! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

_“Look into your eyes and the sky’s the limit. I’m helpless.”_

― Lin-Manuel Miranda, _Helpless_

 

_“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.”_

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, _This Side of Paradise_

 

 

Viktor’s heart was beating fast. His palms were sweating. His hair was in utter disarray.

He had lost.

For the first time in a long time, he had actually lost.

 

Viktor had not had a bad performance. It had been… fine… which _wasn’t_ fine. He was supposed to be excellent. Anything less than superb was unthinkable and he had been… _fine_. A disgusting word.

After the scores were announced he had seemingly taken his loss with stride. He had grinned brightly, hugged an unwilling yet unbearable smug Yuri Plisetski, and signed some autographs for fans. He was still Viktor Nikiforov while in the arena. When he got to his apartment however, he was somebody that the public wouldn’t recognize.

He was a mess.

 

()()()

 

“I don’t think Viktor’s actually a bad person,” said Yuuko. “I think… he comes across a certain way – he certainly acts like an arrogant ass on occasion, don’t get me wrong – but… I feel like there’s something more to him.”

She was sitting on a loveseat next to Yuuri and she’d had a couple of drinks. They had found a nice, reasonably quiet place to sit and talk at afterparty Phichit and some of the other skaters were hosting. It had taken some cajoling but finally Yuuri agreed to go for Phichit’s sake, his best friend, who was currently off dancing with a girl he’d met that night. Worth it.

“It might just be the ‘mom’ in me, however.” Yuuko laughed. “I get a little protective sometimes.”

Yuuri sipped his non-alcoholic drink, thoughtful. “How did he seem after his loss?”

Yuuko shrugged. “He was smiling, taking pictures with fans and congratulating Yuri for winning. He seemed fine.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, both looking in opposite directions. Yuuri was looking down at his lap, his brows furrowed. He was the one who spoke first. “Viktor isn’t fine, is he?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Does he have someone? Anyone to look after him?” Yuuri asked, putting down his glass on the coffee table in front of them. 

“I don’t know him very well,” she reminded him. “He’s friendly with his coach, young Yuri and just about everyone else on the planet. People really tend to gravitate towards him but… no. I don’t think he has someone like that… he seems to like you though.”

Yuuri huffed out a frustrated breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t be that for him, Yuuko. I barely know him and, in case you somehow missed it, I am no position to care for someone other than myself.”

“I know that.”

“So what if he lost?” Yuuri asked, aggression in his tone. “What does it matter? He has like a million gold trophies, right? Surely his ego isn’t _that_ fragile.” He was coming off more aggressive than usual but his words from the previous night haunted him. He had been harsh. Perhaps harsher than he should have been. 

“Really?” Yuuko asked, sounding utterly unconvinced. “Have you _met_ the man?”

Yuuri sighed. “You know that I have… and I see your point. But, also, I really don’t want to get more involved in his life than I already am– and Yuuko, I can practically _feel_ you judging me right now.”

“I’m sorry.” She leaned to the side to give him a half-hug. “I just hate the thought of someone being alone like that.”

“I know what you mean,” Yuuri replied softly.

After a moment, he took a deep breath, resolved. “Speaking of being alone, however, I should find Phichit and get back to my room.”

“Fine,” Yuuko dragged out the word and pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. “Come on! I’ll help you find Phichit.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up from the sofa.

Phichit wasn’t hard to find. He was harder to get away from.

He was currently hanging onto Yuuri for dear life while nodding his head to the beat. He wasn’t even drunk, just “high on life” (a remark that made Yuuko giggle and then leave).

“I came in fourth, Yuuri!” Phichit yelled. “That’s better than fifth and it’s almost third, which gets you a medal – I’m so close to the podium I can almost taste it! And I’m so happy you’re here to share this with me, honestly I am.”

Yuuri patted him on the back. “I’m happy for you.” Phichit hummed against his neck. “And I need a favor.”

Phichit pulled back to look into his friend’s eyes. “What do you need?”

Yuuri sighed. “I need Viktor’s address.”

“Oh,” Phichit frowned, surprised by the request. “I can ask around, I suppose.”

“That would be great,” Yuuri told him. “Thank you.”

Phichit threw his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “I think I see his coach over there – let’s ask him!”

 

()()()

 

Late that night, there was a knock on Viktor’s door. This was uncommon but not unheard of. One time, it had been a drunk-beyond-comprehension Chris looking for a place to crash and, come to think of it, every time had somehow involved Chris.

But when he opened the door, instead of Chris, it was Katsuki Yuuri was standing there. Looking uncomfortable, holding a folded cane in his gloved hands. Viktor stared for a moment, surprised.

“Hello?” Yuuri greeted, although it was more a question than anything else. “Viktor?”

Viktor cleared his throat. “Yes. Hello. Yuuri.”

The blind man smiled awkwardly. “Hi.”

“This is a bad time.” Viktor told him. “I’m sorry, really but-”

This seemed to set off something in Yuuri. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been bugging me to talk to you for days and now it’s a ‘bad time’. You really are a diva.”

Viktor’s mouth fell open in chock. _How dare he?_ “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Yuuri told him, sticking out his chin defiantly. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your pity party but I thought you might like some company.”

Viktor eyed the other man, he truly had never met another quite like him before. “How did you get here?”

“Taxi.”

 _Fair enough_ , Viktor thought.

“So am I leaving or are you inviting me in?” Yuuri asked.

A small part of Viktor was happy to see Yuuri, giddy even, that the other man had sought him out. However, the majority of him remained bitter from his previous loss and the aforementioned ‘pity party’ was sounding rather inviting. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Come on in.”

Yuuri smiled. “Thank you.”

Viktor stepped aside to let him pass. Yuuri kicked off his shoes and took off his jacket, holding it in his hands sheepishly along with his cane. He cleared his throat. Viktor could’ve smacked himself in the face. “I’ll take that,” he offered.

“Thanks.” Yuuri handed his things over.

Viktor held them for a moment, glancing around them for an empty surface to dump them on. Sadly, his apartment was somewhat spartan, especially his hallway. He dropped Yuuri’s possessions next a large, oddly shaped vase that probably cost a lot more than it was esthetically worth.

“Did you just dump my jacket on the floor?” Yuuri asked.

“Hah. No.” Viktor told him, scratching the back of his head. “Would you like some coffee? Tea?” Viktor asked, walking towards the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway when he realized Yuuri wasn’t following him. When he glanced back Yuuri looked small next to his door, as awkward as Viktor felt.

“I haven’t been here before,” said Yuuri. “It’s sort of hard for me to get around when-”

“Of course! I’m sorry! Let me help you.” Viktor strode up to him and paused with his hand hovering by Yuuri’s elbow. He had seen Yuuri’s friends guide him that way before. But was it okay for him to do the same? “Can I, umm, touch you?” He instantly winced at his choice of words but it hardly seemed to faze Yuuri (although Viktor thought he glimpsed a hint of red on his cheeks).

“Yeah, just try to keep me from bumping into things.”

“I’ll try,” Viktor murmured and gently grasped the other man’s arm. They began moving forward at a leisurely pace. “There’s not much to bump into here anyway.”

Yuuri huffed. “That sort of surprises me, I have to be honest.”

“Why?” Viktor cocked a brow and led them into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and led Yuuri’s hand to its back, Yuuri sat down.

“Well, you have a pretty big personality. I usually bump into more things in the houses of people with big personalities. I think they might be more prone to hoarding.” Yuuri joked.

Viktor smiled and turned on the water boiler. “Not in my case. So what are you here for anyway? We didn’t exactly end on a good note last time. In fact, you sounded pretty final.” He pulled two plain white mugs out of his cabinet and poured the now boiling water into them. “I was pretty sure I wouldn’t see you again.”

“Well, I _never_ see you.”

The unexpected joke made Viktor drop one of the teabags into the water. He fished it out with a low curse and then placed the mugs on the table, giving the one he’d fingered to himself.  “It’s okay, Yuuri. I know you’re only here because you feel bad for me,” Viktor told him. “But, honestly, I’m just happy you’re here. It surely improved my night.”

“Why?” Yuuri asked. “I don’t get it. I’m no one.”

Viktor hummed and sat down opposite Yuuri. “I’m not sure myself. There’s something special about you, Yuuri. It’s not obvious. It’s a subtle thing. The sort of thing that sneaks up on you.” As Viktor looked across the table at Yuuri, who was currently illuminated by moonlight, he thought he saw the same side of Yuuri he’d seen in the video. “You’re definitely not ‘no one’.”

“For what it’s worth…” Yuuri began. “I might have prejudged you. I’m still not thrilled about what you did. In fact, I had a nightmare about being mobbed by your fans last night but… you’re not terrible. In fact, I think you might be… secretly decent.”

A grin crept onto Viktor’s face. He looked utterly smitten. “That’s not a great compliment but it’s a start. Does this mean you’ll reconsider being my muse?” He asked, hopeful.

Yuuri flinched. “Nope. I strongly dislike that term.”

“Inspiration, then?”

Yuuri laughed at his eager tone. Viktor liked the sound of it. “No. But maybe we could work together somehow. From what I hear you’re pretty good.”

Yuuri’s tone was teasing but it reminded Viktor of what had passed earlier that day. His loss. “I am. I’m just not the best anymore.”

“So? Does it really matter?”

“No.” Viktor lied.

Yuuri sighed. “I’m sorry. It matters. Of course it does. I’ve spent enough time with Phichit to know that it _really_ matters.”

“Winning?” Viktor queried.

“Skating.”

“He must really love it.”

“He does.”

“I used to love it,” Viktor admitted. “Maybe I still do, I’m not sure. Me and the ice, we’re connected. Being on the ice is like coming home, in a way. But I guess, after a time, it became more work than fun… that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the glory and fame… but it’s not what it was.” He looked at Yuuri. “When you danced to my music I saw the old me in you. A man with freedom, a passion. Someone who performed for themselves rather than the masses.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri whispered. To Viktor’s chagrin he almost looked sad.

“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to talk to you without making a mess of things.”

“It’s not that,” Yuuri promised. “You just said some really nice things about me.”

Viktor smiled. “You deserve to have nice things said about you.”

Neither of the two men knew it, but they looked like utter idiots smiling at each other (it was kind of sweet).

“I shouldn’t stay long,” Yuuri said, putting a damper on the moment. “I’m supposed to join Phichit at the rink at the break of dawn tomorrow. I should get some sleep.”

“I get it,” said Viktor. “I’ll walk you.”

 

()()()

 

 

Viktor walked Yuuri all the way to his door, as promised. “I guess this is goodnight,” he said as they lingered in the hallway.

“I had a nice time tonight,” Yuuri admitted.

“Nice enough that we should meet again?”

“Sure.”

Viktor smiled. “Goodnight then, Yuuri.”

Just as Viktor’s turning around Yuuri caught his sleeve.

The fabric of Viktor’s jacket was thick and soft, Yuuri sank his fingers into it and pulled Viktor closer to him. The other man went along with it and let’s himself be led into Yuuri’s personal space. Yuuri’s other hand travelled up Viktor’s arm, up his neck until it grazed his jaw. Yuuri continued to trail up until he could trace his index finger along Viktor’s cheekbone.

As he touched Viktor’s face he let out a soft gasp which seemed to ignite something within Viktor who grabbed Yuuri by his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.

After a moment, he took a step back, tentative. “Is this okay?” He asked.

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah.”

Their lips find each other again.

 

()()()

 

In a dark room, all alone, across town, Yuri Plisetski sat cross-legged in his unmade bed. He was pleased as only a winner can be. He was typing on his phone, grinning wolfishly to himself. As he sent the tweet he leaned back against his headboard with a satisfied sigh. “I have this in the bag,” he told himself confidently. “Luckily I look gorgeous in gold.”

 

**From Yuri Plisetski’s Twitter:**

I always knew I was better than you Viktor. #SuckItOldMan #WhatANight #GrandPrixGrandMe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we're getting somewhere, right?
> 
> As always, love the support through kudos and comments!


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